High Enough
by Last Munichorn
Summary: "You should have known that drinking yourself into oblivion with your very hot, very single, very frustrated at men best friend slash enemy was indeed not a good idea." Setting in after episode 4x14 "I do", with Flashbacks.
1. Prologue

"_The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."  
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross_

* * *

You've always been territorial. It's who you are. It shows you care, doesn't it? Okay, maybe it only shows that you hate sharing. You always did. It was not really jealousy as much as it was possessiveness. You hated when Puck was with others, even though you never had any romantic feelings for him. You especially hated it when you found out about him sleeping with Brittany for obvious reasons and Lord were you pissed when you found out about Quinn. You loathe sharing. When you were just a little kid it wasn't any different. You never shared your toys. That is until you met the two blondes that would help you form the Unholy Trinity. You shared with them but never with others. Once you possessed something it was yours and yours only.

No, it's not about jealousy. It's control, greed for power. You completely lost it when you heard about Brittany and Artie and it took you only about a week to reclaim her for several hours in your bed. You showed her exactly what she would never have with him. Oh, you were good at claiming and it had nothing to do with feelings. You just liked having everything, or something…anything really. So when you got the chance, you even claimed Finn, knowing that it would aggravate the Hobbit diva to no end.

But that's how you ended up dancing with her that night at the non-wedding. You needed to have a claim on her. Some claim. Anything. Puck must have lost his mind, coming onto her again. The nerve that guy had.

_You watch mesmerized as she trails her fingers along your arm before taking a sip from her wine glass again. She is enamoring, absolutely spell bounding. You're sure she knows that. She must know that, right?_

_You want to say something, want to tell her how absolutely breathtaking she looks tonight but it feels like it isn't your place to say so. She has made it a point to tell you that you look good and you have no idea why but you still don't feel like you can actually tell her the same. A straight woman telling another woman she looks good? Perfectly fine. A gay one? Not quite as innocent. And as you watch her carefully, looking as striking as ever, you sure know that it wouldn't be innocent. _

_Instead you tell her that the both of you are flawless even though you both know that you're anything but. You both know that in this room, the two of you are probably the most screwed up. _

You should have known that drinking yourself into oblivion with your very hot, very single, very frustrated at men best friend slash enemy was indeed not a good idea. You should have known that because as you lie in her bed in the morning, her limbs all over you and her head on your shoulder, calmly breathing into your neck, you know that a mature freak out will come as soon as she wakes up all sobered up and in the right state of mind. That doesn't however stop you from slowly trailing your fingers along the deep scars around her spine. It doesn't stop you from thinking that you actually enjoyed yourself for the first time in so long last night. It doesn't stop you from not regretting. And maybe, just maybe, something inside of you is hoping she won't either, hoping that this can suffice to bring you closer again, close the awfully devastating distance that has come between the two of you during the last years and that you are painfully slowly trying to repair. But of course, repairing things isn't as easy anymore after the two of you have graduated and left Lima.

"_I've never slow danced with a girl before," she tells you as you are swaying over the dance floor slowly, with your head softly lying against her shoulder, breathing in the fruity scent of her hair and perfume. You slowly disentangle yourself and look at her questioningly, wondering if this was the point where she has sobered up enough to realize what she's doing. You're positively surprised when she tells you that she likes it and simply pulls you close again._

As you look towards the window you notice the chair next to it, with your wedding attire and clutches thrown over and next to it – you both had your shoes off before you had completely entered the room – you stare at her hideous jacket and then back down at the scars aligning her spine, highlighted by the sun streaming into the room. You had told her multiple times to take the stupid jacket off last night, but she simply waved you off and told you she was cold. When you slowly pushed down the zipper of her dress hours later, you finally realized what the real reason was and before you could stop yourself you had placed your lips against those scars, ignoring the sharp intake of breath and slight flinch that came from the blonde.

You don't think you've ever been as damn close to knowing Quinn Fabray as when you held her close to you and felt all of her, every scar, every bone, every perfectly imperfect inch of skin. And when you held her afterwards and felt her mumble into your skin, it made you wonder if anyone else had ever been entitled to be this close to Quinn before.

"You know, there's one good thing that came from sleeping with my psychology professor," she told you and you wanted to yell at her and shake her because _no_, there _isn't_. But then she told you, "I finally started therapy" and you didn't say a word, didn't shake her, didn't move at all. You just held her a little tighter and buried your nose in her hair because for reasons you couldn't understand this meant more to you than you could ever put into words.

You had no idea why you were cuddling or why she told you these things. Maybe it was the alcohol but then again, you didn't feel drunk anymore, maybe you never really were in the first place. Apart from Brittany, you have never been this close to anyone and that scares you. Of course, Brittany and Quinn are nothing alike. You could never compare these two and there is no reason to either. The only thing they have in common is being blonde and God yes, you dig blonde, always have.

Still, you can't help but prepare yourself for the freak out that is sure to come once sleeping beauty awakes in your very naked arms and realizes how very naked she herself is and you don't look forward to it, not at all. You wish you could –

"You're thinking way too loud."

"You're awake," you state, terrified of her reaction.

"I see, it's state-the-obvious day. You're still here." You frown at that because where else would you possibly be? And then it hits you again. This isn't your room. You stayed the night and you have no idea why you did.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, you're comfy," you hear her mumble into your neck while she snuggles herself even closer to you and you're stunned beyond belief because this can't be happening. How can she be so calm? This is Quinn Fabray. She should be jumping from the bed and act like you are the most disgusting thing she has ever laid eyes on and yell at you that you took advantage of her, that you seduced her in a weakened state.

"You're not freaking out."

"Why would I?"

"I don't know."

"We were both lonely and decided to have some fun with each other. No harm done. Now go back to sleep," she tells you before you feel her relax against you, the muscles in her back loosening one by one beneath your fingers.

You can feel her breath even out against your neck and let her words register in your mind. You know that this wasn't just fun to you. You don't know what it was but certainly not just fun. You haven't felt this close to anyone in a very long time and you have certainly never felt this close to Quinn.

You close your eyes forcefully, in desperate need for some sleep and your mind to just shut up. You focus on her skin beneath your fingers – the softness, the scars, her spine – and her breath against your neck. But in the end, what lulls you to sleep is the feeling of her heart beating rhythmically against your rib cage.

The last thing you feel is the wetness of a lonely tear rolling down from your left eye to your hair line and you're not sure if it is the beauty and peacefulness of the moment that causes it or the fact that you have no idea when you will be this close to anyone again.

With one last inhale of her fruity scent – the scent of _life_, because no one knows what life is more than Quinn does – you drift off to sleep again.

**First of all, Merry Christmas everyone! **

**This is my first ever Quinntana fic so I'm a little nervous about it. And I'm actually not quite finished with my last story yet but this seemed a good place to wrap up the chapter, so I might as well upload it already. Let me know what you think :)**


	2. How to be a friend

"_We all make mistakes, have struggles, and even regret things in our past. But you are not your mistakes, you are not your struggles, and you are here NOW with the power to shape your day and your future."  
― Steve Maraboli, __Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience_

* * *

The next time you hear from Quinn is a rather uncomfortable and absolutely unwanted situation and after ignoring her for almost three weeks after the non-wedding it takes you a lot of courage to take your phone and dial her number. You don't _want _to call her but you need her help more than anything right now.

"Look who's still alive," you get as a greeting and you know you deserve it, too.

"Cut it, Fabray, this isn't about me," you simply tell her. There is absolutely no way you will talk about what happened 18 days ago…and no you have certainly not been counting. It's just easy to add up from the 14th of February to the fourth of March, that's all. You're bright after all.

"Oh, of course it isn't. It's so much easier to blame me. Whatever you need to sleep at night, Santana. Now, if you excuse me, I have better things to do than hear you whine about how I got you drunk so I could take advantage of you. Enjoy your week."

You know you only have seconds before she'll hang up on you, so you blurt out the first thing you think will catch her attention. "It's Rachel!"

"_Rachel, I'm your friend. You can trust me. Just tell me what's going on!"_

It pains you to realize that she doesn't hang up because of Rachel but would have without a second thought hung up on you.

"Speak," is all you get and somehow you can't find it in yourself to blame her.

"I don't know what to do," you honestly tell her because this is something you have no idea how to deal with. When Quinn was pregnant, you weren't there for her. It's something you will forever regret and especially now, you feel extremely helpless.

"Please don't tell me you fucked her, too."

You hear anger, maybe even jealousy but at this point you have no idea where it's directed. Quinn and Rachel have always had something special. You were making fun of both of them before you even knew that Quinn could swing that way.

"What? No!"

"Oh, what did you do then?"

"What makes you assume that I did something wrong?"

"Really now?" You deserve it, you tell yourself. Not just for ignoring her but for everything you've done during high school. Nevertheless, it still stings.

"She's pregnant," you sigh out, not willing to fight any longer.

"Oh," is all she says before she falls silent. You wait her out, hoping she'll say something…anything, but she doesn't.

"Q, please. I don't know what to do."

"Has she seen a doctor?"

"No, she's done a pregnancy test and it was positive."

"How many?"

"Just one, I think."

"Take her to a doctor and hope for the best. If not, call me again." And with that she hangs up on you and you want to call again because you want to comfort her. You know by now she's probably crying and remembering every little detail that she keeps trying to store away somewhere in the back of her mind.

You want to call again but you don't because it's not your place.

* * *

You hate doctor's offices, just like you hate hospitals. Nothing good ever comes with them. You had to visit Quinn in the hospital more than once and you will never get those images out of your head ever again.

„_You're stupid, Fabray!" You're not yelling, your voice isn't anywhere near loud. You don't think you're capable of loud right now. _

"_I'm sorry," she croaks out and it tears you apart how vulnerable she sounds and how quiet her apology is. It pains you to see how much effort is costs her to say those two simple words. It pains you that she's apologizing in the first place because it's so out of character for her. But right here, right now, her pride is gone. The Quinn Fabray, HBIC of McKinley High doesn't exist in here. She's broken. _

"_You're so fucking stupid," you say again, when what you actually want to tell her is that you love her. You wonder if she knows. You wonder if you've ever told her. You can't remember._

_It kills you how important she is to you after everything you went through. What makes it worse is that it would have for sure killed you if she wouldn't have made it through. You step closer and place a hand on her legs. She stares down at it and your eyes widen at the tears that pour down her face. _

_You quickly take away your hand, confusion written across your face, and place it on top of her hands lying in her lap instead, squeezing slightly while you wait for her to elaborate. _

"_I can't feel it," she mumbles quietly through her ongoing tears. _

"_What do you mean?" It can't be. _

"_I'm paralyzed," she chokes out, "at least for now." It can't be. You're stock still, your hand unconsciously tightening around hers, while you place your other hand on her legs unconsciously and squeeze, willing her to feel it, to yell at you and tell you that you're hurting her. But, she doesn't say anything. Doesn't even look at your hand. She doesn't notice it at all. _

_You can't believe what she's telling you. It just isn't possible. After everything Quinn has been through. This is simply too much._

_Without thinking you lean forward and pull her into an awkward hug, telling yourself that you're only doing it to let her know you'll be here for her and not in order to hide the tears that are starting to fall down your cheeks. You cling to her, assuring yourself that she's still here with you when you feel like what's left of her is just a broken shell of the Quinn Fabray that everyone knows. _

"False alarm," she tells you as she walks towards you and you feel a weight fall off your shoulders. "Thank God. I'm so happy," she tells you before you embrace her, for once not caring about letting your feelings show. "Thank you for taking me here today." You aren't used to gratitude but the smile on her face tells you that she means it.

But then she tells you that she's going back to NYADA for her class and you're so confused. "Rachel you can't just blow past this like nothing ever happened," you tell her. You could have left Brody out of your talk but what you tell her comes from the heart. You're trying to show her that you care and that you know her enough to see that this isn't her. This isn't the Rachel Berry that you care about.

When Kurt and Rachel throw you out two days after, you're close to collapsing but you're way too proud to show them. You pack your stuff and leave and you can't help but think that helping Rachel wasn't worth putting Quinn through this pain.

* * *

Without knowing why, you find yourself at the New Haven train station three hours later and stare at your phone, wondering if you've made the wrong decision as you dial her number.

"So, I assume Rachel's pregnant," she starts without saying hello.

"She isn't," you tell her, choking back the tears and trying to swallow down the hurt that the stupid wonder twins have caused. You're above them, you try to tell them. But in the end, you know you're not. You know you never deserved them welcoming you into their home in the first place. For some reason you assumed that it could work; that you had a bond with them, that you were friends.

"What happened?"

"We went to the doctors, false alarm."

_Passengers to New York, please board the train._

You think of getting on the train and going back, maybe even going to Lima but Lima means Brittany and your abuela and Lima means even more pain than New York and the idea of both places make you want to curl up on a bed and cry.

"No, what happened, Santana? You don't sound okay and obviously you aren't, since you're calling me. Where are you? A train station?"

"I'm in New Haven," you tell her, waiting for her reaction.

"Why?"

"They threw me out," you quietly tell her.

"I'll be right there," she answers and hangs up on you.

You wonder if she's mad, wonder if she understands what Kurt and Rachel did. You wonder why she's even coming for you but right now it doesn't matter because all you want is to see her and for her to tell you that everything is going to be fine.

You have no idea why you behaved the way you did. You don't understand why you were ignoring her even though you wanted to talk to her more than anything, even though you would have needed your best friend close to you. You don't get why you're so very nervous about seeing her again for the first time after the non-wedding.

Sleeping with Quinn wasn't just a random hook up to you even though by all means, it should have been because Quinn was right, you were both lonely and were seeking companionship in each other. You were absolutely hung up on Brittany and she was…you don't know why she was lonely. Then again, thinking about it, you're pretty sure that Quinn's always lonely even when she is _with _someone. Was she also lonely when she was with you?

Sex had never been a problem for you in high school – until Brittany that is. With guys, sex was all it ever was. It wasn't about anything special. It was _just_ sex. With Brittany it was absolutely not just sex, even if you had a hard time admitting that.

Quinn is the only woman you've slept with except for Brittany. Maybe that's what has you so nervous. You haven't had a one night stand in – actually you're just not the one night stand type at all. Yes, you're a very sexual person, always have been. But the reason you slept with about half of the boys in high school was because the image of a slut was better than that of a lesbian. You went for the lesser evil and let them fuck away the little self-worth that you still had after realizing you were gay.

Most of your characteristics however scream commitment; jealousy, possessiveness, protectiveness, loyalty and love. The last, you usually manage to hide away, but for people like Quinn or Brittany, you've always been an open book. They would have seen the intention behind your stunt at NYADA. They would have seen it for what it was – a declaration of loyalty and love. You know for sure that something about Brody is off, but now you'll never find out what it is and for some reason you still care about what will happen to Rachel once she finds out.

When the blonde comes walking towards you with quick steps, with an expression you can absolutely not read – because Quinn is your absolute opposite, she's a book that only she can unlock and only few people ever get to see a single page of her book –, you start to search your head for things to say but you come up with absolutely nothing. How can you tell her what you actually think? You're sure that by now – in classic Quinn Fabray fashion – she has come to her own conclusions about your night on Valentine's Day, probably thinking that you regret sleeping with her and are avoiding her like the plaque because you don't know how to look at her anymore.

You don't regret sleeping with Quinn, not one bit. Even though it does kind of mess up your friendship – which is one hundred percent your fault because Quinn didn't act weird at all, didn't freak out in the morning like you expected her to – you still can't get yourself to regret the first thing that had made you feel anything but sadness and loneliness in months.

So, the closer she gets, the more you concentrate on keeping eye contact, on looking at her and letting her read you. You concentrate on telling her that you don't regret what you shared that night without actually having to say it. However, when she stops in front of you and looks at you – looks into you – you don't expect the tear that escapes one of your tired eyes. And what you expect even less is her wrapping you up in a loose but still comforting hug without further need for words. She doesn't tell you that everything will be alright but somehow this is enough reassurance for now.

* * *

When you are wrapped up beneath her blankets in her dorm, she steps out of the room, probably thinking you are asleep. You almost doze off when you hear her talk on the phone angrily.

"Are you stupid?"

You can hear her pace across the floor and wonder who it is that she's talking to, wonder who is getting her this angry.

"She doesn't know anyone in New York. You can't just throw her out like that."

And then you know, or you can guess. You don't think she'd call Kurt because she probably knows that the decision wasn't his but Rachel's.

"Have you ever considered that she's just trying to help?"

It bugs you. It bugs you that, of all people, Quinn is the one protecting you, standing up for you, after you ignored her for weeks.

"She was trying to be your friend, she just doesn't know any better, Rachel."

God, that hurt. Way to find out that you are not capable of being a real friend, that you don't know how to be someone's friend.

"You'll regret this once your boy toy shows his real face. Santana is never wrong about these things."

And you know Quinn enough to know that she just hung up on the diva. It pains you that the blonde just got into a fight with her friend because of something stupid that you did. Just because you didn't know how else to show that you care. Just because you thought you were doing the right thing by protecting the diva. Just because you didn't know how to be someone's friend.

When she reenters the room, you don't move. You patiently wait as she undresses herself and gets ready for bed, your back turned towards her. You flinch slightly at the cold that she causes when she lifts the blanket and climbs into bed behind you.

"Thank you," you whisper, letting her know that you heard.

She doesn't say anything and you wonder if she's already asleep. But then she carefully wraps an arm around your waist from behind you.

"You should sleep."

"Good night, Q."

"Good night, San."

**I know, this took forever. My apologies. I was busy finishing my other story and then it took me forever to be at least close to satisfied with this chapter. Thank you to everyone that followed, favorited and reviewed the first chapter. It means a lot to me! Let me know what you think about the new chapter. Feedback always helps.**


	3. Read me

"_Don't let the agony, regret, or fog of yesterday blind you to the fact that each new day carries with it a plethora of opportunities to move your life into the right direction."  
― Steve Maraboli, __Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience_

* * *

When you wake up, the room is only barely lit and it takes you by surprise when you see that it's already 7am. You try to climb out of bed but a hand that is carelessly thrown across your waist stops you from doing so. You look to your right and find Quinn sprawled out on her stomach, blonde hair splayed chaotically over the pillow that you shared for the night and her face turned away from you, mostly covered by strands of blonde.

You know for sure that sleeping on her stomach is not good for her. You know that she still has problems finding comfortable positions to fall asleep in. But in the end, Quinn has always been sleeping on her stomach and therefore naturally ends up this way at some point. You have seen her flinch noticeably that morning in the hotel room and you knew for sure that it was not from the night that you had shared together because you had been gentle and had always made sure that Quinn was comfortable, both physically and mentally.

You consider waking her up but your former captain is quite grumpy in the morning and she looks way too peaceful to be woken up already. So instead, you slowly disentangle yourself from her, lifting her arm and the blanket to carefully crawl out of bed without waking the sleeping beauty. You walk toward her window and draw back the curtain a little to see the cause of the darkness capturing the room.

You draw in a deep breath when you see the fog that lies over the city so thickly that you can barely see 150 feet. It's frightening as well as breathtakingly beautiful, the way the fog hides away absolutely everything in thick mist. All you can do is stare.

It's then that you can't help but think about Rachel, think about Brody. You know for sure that something isn't right about that guy. You just _know_. And even though you're beyond hurt right now about the wonder twins throwing you out, you can't help but care, you can't help but worry. You simply need to find out. So, instead of pondering over when you started caring about the midget and Lady Hummel, you tell yourself that it's your insatiable curiosity that makes you so relentless. It might not be drugs. Maybe you were a little too fast with that assumption. But it's something, it's something and you _need_ to find out what it is and make Rachel see it, too. Of course, only so you can say 'I told you so' into a shocked Rachel Berry's face.

You freeze when you hear the mumbled words coming from the bed behind you.

"Why are you up so early?"

You don't answer, simply shrug, assuming that she's staring at you anyway.

"You have your plotting face on. What's the matter?" You keep forgetting how much Quinn knows you, the real you. Keep forgetting just how good she is at reading you.

"Nothing," you lie, knowing she won't buy it for a second.

"Try again," she simply tells you. You like how easy this comes to the both of you, like how she doesn't get angry at you for trying to deflect and instead just accepts it for what it is – a trained reflex. She simply accepts that it's who you are and pushes beyond it as if the walls you have built around you don't exist for her.

"Brody."

"Why are you thinking about the plastic guy?"

"Something's off, I just know it. Seriously Q, I wouldn't have done that NYADA stunt if I wasn't one hundred percent sure."

"I know," she sighs.

"I need to bring him down and I will. I just don't know how yet."

"Why do you care so much, San? They threw you out."

"I know, I just –" And you don't know what to answer. Because, honestly, you're not sure why you care so much either. You just do. And you can't simply let Rachel keep walking on the high road to perdition.

"You love them," she states more than asks. And you're sure that if you'd turn around, you'd see a small smile displayed on those pink lips. Not a smirk, a smile. It scares the hell out of you because you know that she's probably right and love is just not something that comes to you easily. Love is confusing and misleading and absolutely heartbreaking most of the time and it has always scared the shit out of you. And fear had always been your worst enemy even when you finally were with the woman you loved and considered your soulmate, everything you did, every step you took was taken in fear.

"What do you think about a little trip to New York? My treat."

"You really are sure about this."

"One hundred and ten percent."

"Alright," she tells you. "But I can't just leave like that. We can go on Friday. I have classes."

You turn around now, if only to see her reaction as you smirk at her and call her a nerd and she doesn't disappoint you when she rolls her eyes dramatically and lets her head fall back into the pillow.

"Shut up and come back to bed."

"Wanky!" You just couldn't help it and of course you get another well deserved eye roll for that. You needed to make this feel light because Quinn calling you back to bed sounded way too domestic for you to stomach. Worst of all it stirred something inside you, something that you were trying so hard to burry as deep as possible.

As you walk back towards the bed, she lazily lifts the blanket for you and you notice her shiver slightly at the cold hitting her still sleepy body. You settle into bed next to her and look at her for a second, asking for the same comfort you got last night without actually having to say the words. You turn away from her and feel arms around your waist immediately.

There's a maturity to this new Quinn that you just can't figure out for the life of you. This Quinn is very different from the Quinn that slapped the hell out of you just months ago. She's different from the head cheerleader in high school. You've encountered a lot of different versions of Quinn Fabray but none of them were like this. Quinn seemed mature and somehow approachable – which was an adjective you would have never before connected to the blonde. She almost seemed vulnerable, delicate. You can't help but be intrigued by her.

You have no idea why this feels so natural or why she's doing all of this for you after how stupid you've been acting for the last few weeks. You wonder when Quinn has changed so much and how you could miss it.

"I can hear you thinking," she murmurs from behind you. You can feel her breathing against your neck and have to hold back a shiver at the sensation of the warmth against your skin. She reads you, without even looking at you, without you needing to say anything and you can feel the fear inside you yell at you to get away, get away now.

"Sorry," you mumble, not sure what you should answer.

"Just get some more sleep. I only have late classes today. We can get some brunch at the café on campus and talk then. But for now – sleep."

You smile warmly at her words (you're kind of glad she can't see you right now) and simply mumble an 'alright' before you relax in the comfort that she offers.

* * *

The next time you wake up, it's due to motion behind you. You feel the arm around your waist tighten for a while and the body behind yours shake before it's gone entirely. As you feel her sit up behind you, you debate whether you should turn around and let her know you're awake.

When you hear some rattling behind you, you can't help it. Curiosity gets the better of you. You turn around cautiously and look at her as she breathes heavily and seems to contemplate before knocking back pills and washing them down with water. Your eyes widen slightly at the label that reads 'Xanax' and Quinn's name beneath.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you sit up and lay a hand on her shoulder carefully. It hurts you to feel her flinch beneath you and you can't help but scold yourself for not speaking up first.

"Are you okay, Q?" You have no idea how you got here. It's seriously disturbing. But you just can't help but care and somehow in front of the blonde, you don't feel the desperate need to hide as much as you normally do.

"Just give me a minute," she quietly tells you.

She sounds broken and a part of you breaks with her as you watch her trying to get her breathing under control. You have barely ever seen her like this and it scares you. You want to say something, want to tell her you're here but you don't know if it'll mean anything and you're too scared that it might not.

As her breathing slows down, you feel her shrink away slightly but instead of giving her space, you move closer and turn her shoulder slightly, making her look at you.

"They're anxiety pills," she tells you dejectedly.

"I know."

"I don't need them often."

"I'm not judging." And it's true. You're not. You're worried.

"That's new," she scoffs sarcastically. It stings but you can't blame her. You spent all of high school judging others so that you could stop judging yourself for just a minute.

"What happened?" You wonder if you being in her bed had anything to do with her anxiety, and it terrifies you because you have no idea what you would do if the answer were yes.

"I just had a nightmare. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me." You let your arm snake around her waist, bringing her slightly closer and place your head on her shoulder, hoping it brought back the same memories for her than it did to you.

"I don't need a haircut. I just got one."

You laugh, outright laugh at that because you couldn't keep in the happiness that this comment fills your heart with. You smile warmly into her neck. It feels like you've let go for the first time in months. You feel freed somehow.

"Well, in that case, now that I know that you _are_ into that, why don't we get to the fun part right away," you say light heartedly. And it has the desired effect because she turns around and swats your arm before rolling her eyes at you. But the most important reaction is the tiny smile on her lips that makes the sparkle in her hazel eyes slightly less heartbreaking.

She looks entirely too breathtaking right now and you have to fight the urge to kiss her and that realization was entirely too frightening.

"You mentioned brunch. I'm starving and needs to get my eats on. So drag your boney, white ass out of bed now." Avoiding. Deflection. It's what you do best after all.

**Alright everyone, I hope you liked the update. Next up a friendly (?) lunch date with an uninvited guest and a trip to New York. Leave a review and let me know whether you liked the update. **

**Also, thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows so far. The support on this (especially so early on) means the world to me!**


End file.
